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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24175807">Tango</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuro_Ko/pseuds/Kuro_Ko'>Kuro_Ko</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:41:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,030</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24175807</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuro_Ko/pseuds/Kuro_Ko</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Edelgard and Byleth dance tango. Soft and sweet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Edelgard von Hresvelg &amp; My Unit | Byleth, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tango</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey guys! I should be doing a hundred other things... but, hey, Edeleth tango, allow me this self-indulgence. I need to give a gargantuan thank you to Biz, who betaed this story gorgeously!</p>
<p>If you're interested, the song they dance to is "Garganta con arena".</p>
<p>Have a great day and stay safe!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Four minutes, at most. Four minutes in a rhythmic pattern of three, three, and two. One two three, one two three, one two.</p>
<p>Repeated to exhaustion in four minutes, maybe three.</p>
<p>One two three, One two three, One two.</p>
<p>It’s the dance that takes place in the street, in the plaza, on the polished wooden floor of a dance hall. Tango, son of the milonga, born uncontrollably from an insolent guitar, from a dissatisfied bandoneon. From the sadness of a city covered in the sweet and salty mist of La Plata river.</p>
<p>She took her hand in an invitation that didn’t take no for an answer. How could she refuse it? The music invited, the audience swirled and cheered, their whole lives focused on that moment, that point in their intertwined destinies, forged on sweat and eternal hours, pain and practice without breaks, without stopping.</p>
<p>Hand in hand, step by step, a path that they never ceased to walk.</p>
<p>She smiled at her, along with the growing music, her suit a perfect fit, her polished shoes, her racing heart. Her fingers strong and her breathing steady. Her muscles trembling in excitement.</p>
<p>Almost.</p>
<p>Almost.</p>
<p>The bandoneon cried a sad and sustained note before the guitar took by force its leading role, a violent and abrupt note. And, like hundreds of times before, she pulled her partner toward her, a flow of two that seemed like one. Turning on herself, she fell into her arms. A challenge that was just beginning, she held her against her chest, a choreography that was carved in her heart.</p>
<p>One two three.</p>
<p>One two three.</p>
<p>One two.</p>
<p>And she let her go, although she did not pull away, a hand at her waist as they moved in unison. Her blue dress flowed along with each movement, barely able to follow each step, smooth and easy. Her high shoes whispered with each turn. Her strong leg brushed against the side of her pants, an insinuation of something more.</p>
<p>The bandoneon again tore and reeled in notes of grief, a pain that could be felt in its singing, in its passion, in the exhaustion of the tired air that it did not stop exhaling.</p>
<p>She guided her with fierceness and dedication, responding to each haughty movement with her own. In her blue eyes she saw the fire that she knew burned in her own, too. She took her hands, shoulder-high, her arms strong to receive her weight as they gently dropped. Delicacy and strength each one half of a whole Between the two, unity formed. She backed away deftly, not letting her go, not dreaming that her counterpart could fail.</p>
<p>And she didn’t.</p>
<p>She drew her back, alongside the guitar that was now laughing at the sorrow that had settled in its warm wooden heart, and they began their eternal march back. Her polished shoes following her partner's heels, synchronized as they followed each other in a game, an innuendo of what was occuring between the two.</p>
<p>From the height of her heels, with a daring smile, those blue eyes winked at her, before hopping and letting herself be carried, held in the air by the strong muscles of her partner, who was spinning with her together, exposing their shared beauty and grace.</p>
<p>Her loftiness without taboos or shame.</p>
<p>Only in that scenario, Edelgard could see that side of Byleth, unleashed with no restrictions. Every time she witnessed it, she felt that she could not love her more, that she had never loved her more.</p>
<p>And the next time she was always surprised to see her feelings grow even more again.</p>
<p>She listened to the music, listened to the applause as they kept spinning without missing a single step, listened to her heart pounding on her eardrums to the rhythm of a pattern that could never come off her skin.</p>
<p>She let her go gently, watching as she kept turning on herself as if she had never halted her movement before she stopped dead in her tracks and searched for her again.</p>
<p>This time it was Edelgard’s hand that invited her back, and she came gladly.</p>
<p>Hand at her waist.</p>
<p>Hand at her shoulder.</p>
<p>Only the last length was left, the last exhalation of music that was infinite and at the same time ephemeral.</p>
<p>Bandoneon and guitar came together, sensing the end of their song, of their crying, never of their sorrow.</p>
<p>She let her go once more, but this time she followed her, one more step.</p>
<p>Another one.</p>
<p>Maybe a third.</p>
<p>And she caught her, hands on her waist, body bent, her leg stretched out side by side along that bare leg that the blue dress left exposed. A smile on her lips. And her companion, a wild smile as she only saw after their silent communion spoke in steps and not in words, held her tie tightly to bring her even closer.</p>
<p>They looked at each other for a second, the moment after the music reverberated for the last time on the walls of the venue and in the hearts of the spectators, before nodding and, together with the applause that rained nonstop, risen hand in hand with grace and bow to the audience, who had just watched a private conversation between two.</p>
<p>She straightened up and kissed the warm hand that kept her centered.</p>
<p>Another bow and they walked away from the dance floor, back to a table and a glass of wine waiting patiently for their return, along with the fedora hat she had left behind. Edelgard took her companion to her chair, an elegant gesture for her to take a seat, before doing the same. Byleth smiled at her, one hand now on her chin to rest, the other taking the hat to gently put it back on, covering her white hair to her ears.</p>
<p>“I believe we were good.”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Her smile grew, if possible, when the woman who had decided to spend her life with her, leaned across the table, over the half-glass of wine, and kissed her. One hand on her cheek, the other on the table.</p>
<p>And in the minds of both the music that did not stop playing.</p>
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